Page 68 of Reckless At Raleigh High
“Just because it’s hard, doesn’t mean you can everstopsaying it, Zen. It might be easier to just give in, shut your mouth, lie down and let the wolves pick over what’s left of you. Do that and it’ll be so much harder to get back up again, though. These assholes on the football team are never going to let up if they think you’re weak. You stand up to them and you take their power away from them.”
Zen doesn’t look cheered by my instructions, but she makes an effort to stand a little taller. She even lifts her gaze from the floor, though she stares straight ahead, doing everything in her power to avoid making eye contact with anyone. People begin to turn away, shuffling off in different directions, heading for their next classes. Three guys grouped together on the left-hand side of the hallway stay firmly put, though. I don’t really know them at all, but I know their names. Kyle Braiding. Lawrence Davis. Naseem Khatri. They’re part of the ‘Jacob Weaving is God’fan club, founding members, if memory serves, and from the cuts and scrapes on their faces, they’re also amongst the football players who tussled with Alex and Zander recently.
Kyle leers at Zen as we walk by them, eyeing her loose sweatshirt like she’s actually wearing provocative lingerie. “Damn, MacReady. I always knew you were smoking, but shit. Jake showed us those shots of you on his phone. I nearly came in my pants on the spot. Ain’t no point in hiding away those luscious curves now, girl. We all seen what you workin’ with.”
Zen digs her fingernails into my arm, her body tensing. “Ignore him,” I whisper. She tries to quicken our pace, urging me to hurry forward, but I hold her back. I make her walk at an easy, regular speed, refusing to give Kyle or his friends the satisfaction of watching Zen scurry off, afraid.
“God, this was a mistake,” Zen mutters, her voice riddled with anxiety. “I shouldn’t have pushed to come back to school so quickly. Mom said this was a stupid idea, but I wouldn’t listen…”
Last time I saw Zen, she was laid out on a hospital bed, tagged and drugged, and it didn’t seem like she was close to being released any time soon. Clearly, I was wrong. There’s a story here—I have a lot of questions. I don’t even know how to broach the topic of her pregnancy—but it’s going to have to wait for another time. Right now, all that matters is that we get out of here without her breaking down in front of the football team. “You did the right thing. It’s gonna be okay. Come on. Let’s just get you to class.”
Zen’s shaking from head to toe as we walk past the guys. We’re successfully past them and I’m beginning to think we’re free and clear of their bullshit…fornow…when something hits me in the shoulder, really hard. Dark brown liquid showers all over the place, soaking my shirt and my hair, drenching Zen at the same time. It splashes in her face, running down her neck and soaking into the collar of her sweatshirt.
For a horrible second, I worry about what kind of liquid we’ve both just been soaked with—I saw on the news that a woman in L.A. was recently attacked and had a bucket of piping hot diarrhea dumped over her head—but then I see the dented Coke can on the floor at our feet, still spraying fizzed up soda out of its partially cracked opening, and I’m overcome with relief.
It’s just Coke, Silver.
It’s okay, it’s just Coke.
The thankful reassurance that I plays out in my head quickly morphs into something angrier, though.
They threw a can of Coke at you, Silver. They threw a can of fuckingCokeat you.
“Ahhh, sorry, ladies. Didn’t see you there. I was aiming for the trash can,” Nassem jeers. “Don’t worry, though. There are plenty of witnesses around. No need to go running to Darhower and crying rape or anything.”
I see red.
I don’t really see anything at all.
One second, I’m helping Zen dab the soda from her face and her shirt, and the next I’m flying across the hallway, lifting my fist…
Suddenly, a menacing roar fills the corridor, and I’m no longer standing on my own two feet. I’m being lifted in the air, spun around, set back down again…
…and Alex is hurling himself at the group of football players.
It all happens so quickly. A startled scream splits the air behind me. People collide into one another in their desperate attempts to get out of the way. Kyle looks stunned for a split second, before he’s lifted from his feet and Alex has him pinned against the wall.
“Alex, no!”
My shout goes unheard.
Alex pulls back his fist and I watch as he drives it forward in slow motion, slamming it into Kyle’s face.
A dullcrackfills the air, and Kyle’s head makes contact with the wall behind him. That’s when Lawrence and Naseem seem to realize that there are more of them than there are of Alex, and they fall on him, pulling at his shirt, dragging him off their friend.
I can only watch, horrified, as the three jocks tear into Alex. It’s simple math: three against one. My boyfriend stands to get his ass kicked. Kyle seems a little dazed, as he throws a punch at Alex and misses. Lawrence has better aim. His fist makes contact with Alex’s jaw. Naseem plays it safe and lands a winding punch to Alex’s gut.
It seems, fleetingly, that Alex is about to hit the deck, but when I see the fury on his face, it becomes clear that that justisn’tgoing to happen. Alex isn’t the type of guy to go down in a fight. He’s the type of guy who’ll doggedly remain on his feet no matter how hard he’s hit, until someone rings his bell hard enough for him to lose consciousness. I don’t want it to get that far, though. The last thing I want to see is Alex knocked out on the ground.
“Hey!” I step forward, but Zen grabs my wrist, preventing me from getting too close to the melee. The three jocks are oblivious to me. Alex isn’t. The whites of his eyes show as he finds me amongst the madness, and his steely warning drills into me:don’t come any closer,Argento. Keep back.
Kyle hits Alex square on the jaw. He shakes his head, as if he can shrug out of the pain and the disorientation. It doesn’t look like it works, though. With Lawrence and Naseem now holding Alex by either arm, an already shitty situation begins to look even worse.
Kyle staggers back, grunting as he hefts back his arm, swinging for Alex’s face…
Oh god.
Come on. Please, no.
